


Day Is Gone

by alonsos



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Canonical Character Death, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5442032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alonsos/pseuds/alonsos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“And now I see / my most constant mistake / is I don't know what I love till it’s gone”</i>
</p><p>Song of Achilles AU in which Patroclus' death goes differently and Achilles realizes everything too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Is Gone

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to know what Achilles would have done if Patroclus had died a different death, one where it wasn't about Achilles letting him go into battle the same way. More grief, less anger maybe? Basically me wanting to write serious angst.

The sounds of the battle had lessened to a dull roar in the back of Patroclus' mind as he knelt over the soldier. The Trojans, spurred by the Greeks' standstill due to disease, waged a surprise attack before dawn on a festival day. Patroclus had awoken to the sound of nearby screams and reached for Achilles, only to remember he was on a boat much further down the coast, scoping out new land.

Although he was less afraid of battle over the six years they had been in Troy, Patroclus knew he did not belong on the front line, especially not without Achilles present. So he took his skills from the white tent, putting them to use among the injured across the battlefield. He was working on the ninth man he had found alive and started to bandage his bleeding leg. _The one time Achilles isn't here_ , he thought bitterly. He didn't mean it, though; he never did learn to be mad at him. _He will be upset when he learns of the battle, of me out here_. His thoughts were still with Achilles as he wrapped the cloth around the soldier's leg. And then—

He heard it before he felt it.

The arrow lodged itself between two of his ribs. It seemed to curve around his arms in such a way that he wasn't completely aware of it until he looked down. The second arrow struck him inches away from his hands.

Patroclus fumbled at his chest, rising in a daze. He wavered on the spot and looked up to meet the faraway eyes of the soldier who had shot him. Though the battle raged on, the man lowered his bow and stared at Patroclus. He didn't have to wonder as to who it was. The Trojan's eyes widened slightly, his brow furrowed. _Paris_. The young prince looked just as surprised as he was.

Odysseus saw Patroclus first and raced towards him. "Hold on-" he roared, fighting his way across the battlefield to him. Time seemed to freeze and Patroclus fell.

" _Patroclus_ -" another voice cried out his name but it was not the one he wanted to hear.

The fight was suddenly illuminated by the dawning sun and the blood on his hands was even more vivid than before. _Surely this is a dream_.

The light hit Patroclus' face and his eyes fluttered, though he did not close them. _The sun will never compare to Achilles anyway_ , he thought, smiling gently. _(His thoughts were always with him, even with the pain blooming in his chest. Even in death)_

He blacked out as Odysseus reached for him.

...

The water was an impossible blue under the morning sun. Achilles floated in the gentle waves as the small crew prepared the boat for return after two days of exploration. The war, for once, was not at the forefront of his mind. He knew it would take them hours to return to the main camp but his mind was only on Patroclus, on the color of his eyes.

 _I'll have to show Patroclus this sometime,_ Achilles thought.

...

"Put him on the cot-"

"Get him a sedative."

"Who did this? I thought he wasn't in the battle?" Menelaus demanded as he entered the tent.

"He wasn't, he was tending to an injured soldier. A Trojan, actually," Ajax said.

The group of men who had rushed Patroclus back to safety now gathered around the bleeding man. The arrows stuck out of his chest, moving slightly with each small breath he took.

"Will he..." someone started to ask, their voice trailing off.

"Gods be with him. Patroclus is the only one to try to heal wounds like these," Odysseus murmured.

Everyone was still inside the tent, tensely watching Patroclus' chest rise and fall. What could they do? Finally, Menelaus commanded what everyone was too fearful to say aloud.

"Find Achilles. Immediately."

...

The boat rocked gently along the coast as Achilles and his men headed back to camp. The blonde was leaning over the side, dipping his hand in the water lazily as they progressed. The midday sun was hot on his back and he was halfway to sleep when he became aware of his name being called. It was far away, like a dream just taking form, and then the voice repeated itself. Achilles looked around at the crew, who seemed to be unaware of anything. The voice shouted again, much louder.

 _"Achilles!"_ someone screamed from the coast. Even his own eyes could not see who was shouting at him but someone waded into the water and started swimming towards the boat.

The man, who Achilles recognized as one of Menelaus' messengers, was pulled over the side by two of the men. _This could only mean something important if Menelaus sends one of his personal couriers,_ he thought warily. Achilles gripped the man's arm and steadied him.

"What news?" he asked him with a reassuring smile. The messenger met his eyes.

"Patroclus," he breathed. Achilles' smile fell from his face at the look in the man's eyes. He did not need to say any more.

Without hesitation, Achilles released him and dove into the water. A hundred thoughts drove him forward faster, faster, _faster_. He felt an intensity more real than any battle could ever give him, and for the first time he realized his fame was worth nothing in the world next to Patroclus.

 _Please do not let this thought be too late_ , he begged to anyone that was listening. _I will do anything for him._

Achilles swam faster.

...

_As I drift between consciousness and unconsciousness, images from my childhood flood my mind. The tenderness of my mother, the light of the moon, a rare smile from my father. Strange how the life that flashes before my eyes is the life before I met Achilles. Oh gods, be with him. Always be with Achilles._

The pain in Patroclus' chest does not fade, even in the waves of darkness. He forces his eyes open and takes a deep breath. He is getting weaker.

"Patroclus, do not strain yourself," Odysseus says softly. "What do you-"

_"Achilles."_

...

For the first time in his life Achilles is truly tired. His arms and legs strain against the water, covering a distance which would take a boat hours, though he does not slow. The sight of the camp smoking in the distance both frightens and comforts him. He is close, he can make it.

"Achilles." The disapproval in Thetis' voice is obvious, though the newfound pity hurts worse. He does not see her, but then again this was the sea and she was everywhere.

 _Do not stop me._ He does not need to speak aloud.

"I only wish to keep you from that which you cannot change." Achilles tries not to cringe.

_Is he going to die?_

His mother says nothing.

_ANSWER ME!_

"I do not know. Though your destiny-"

_Enough._

Achilles' venomous voice, even in his mind, is harsher than she has ever heard it. As he feels sand under his feet and pulls himself to the shore, he can feel Thetis retreating.

...

The men on the beach part for Achilles, though not in the same way they used to. When before it was out of awe, it was out of grief now. Out of pity. He sprints to the white tent out of instinct— _surely Patroclus will be there._

_(It hurts to be right this time, he realizes much later)._

Achilles rips the tent flap away and freezes after one step. Odysseus is kneeling, Menelaus stands to the side, the others make a path for him, but he does not see them.

His gaze locks on Patroclus' bloodied form. His head lolls to the side, eyes closed. His arms lie at his side and they are covered in blood. _His_ blood, Achilles realizes with a jolt. The bandage on his chest does not stop two dark spots from bleeding through the cloth and the redness of it makes Achilles' heart drop. In all the years of battle, blood has never scared him (though it does now).

He doesn't remember moving but suddenly he is on his knees beside the cot. Patroclus' eyes crack open and the daze that Achilles was locked into breaks. _Alive._

"Patroclus," Achilles whispers. _"Pat-ro-clus."_ He cradles his head in his hands, the dark curls matted with blood. He does not notice the other men leave the tent.

A small smile appears on Patroclus' face. _"You came back."_ His voice is as quiet as fabric rustling.

"Always, I told you I am _always_ with you..." Achilles' voice chokes off. His heart skips a beat as Patroclus' chest rises slowly, too slowly.

It takes Patroclus a few moments to gather the strength to speak again. _"How was the trip?"_

Achilles could laugh if he weren't so shocked, _of course_ Patroclus would ask him of something so meaningless as he bleeds out on the cot. _Oh gods, he's bleeding out—_

"How... Oh, what has happened to you?" Achilles says softly, tears filling his eyes. He traces his fingers along the line of Patroclus' jaw. He hadn't found the fire to be angry yet and his chest ached at the hollowness.

Patroclus' eyes close again. _"Before dawn... they came like a storm... I did not fight, Achilles."_ He takes another few breaths. _"I was with an injured man... arrows just... appeared..."_

Achilles' heart twists and squeezes his eyes shut.

 _"Odysseus was there. Took the arrows out... a few hours ago,"_ Patroclus continues. His breaths become more ragged as he speaks. _"Achilles."_ he whispers.

"I cannot... I..." Achilles is at a loss for words. When he opens his eyes, Patroclus' brown eyes stare back at him.

 _"It does not hurt now."_ He was lying.

"Do not say that for me. I can get you more sedative if you need."

Patroclus smiles again. _"You're here, I'm fine now."_ His eyelids droop slightly.

"Rest now. I will not leave you."

He is still cradling Patroclus' head as he drifts into an uneasy sleep.

...

Achilles hears someone enter the tent but he does not look away from Patroclus.

"Did he ask for sedative?" Odysseus asks quietly.

Achilles shakes his head.

"He was brave today. Not many men would have been that composed with an injury like this."

He says nothing to Odysseus.

"Do you need anything?"

Another small shake of his head.

"Patroclus saved the lives of many men today," Odysseus hesitates before putting a hand on Achilles' shoulder. "I will return later tonight to check his wounds. Get some rest as well, you need your strength."

Achilles gives a barely discernible nod but does not look away from Patroclus.

"Stay strong, Achilles." The sound of Odysseus' footsteps fade and he focuses on the sound of Patroclus' faint breathing.

...

In the darkness he had been floating, avoiding the pain of breathing or thinking or moving. Patroclus struggled to keep control of his pain and he knew if he started to scream Achilles would lose it.

_"Patroclus."_

The voice (which did not belong to Achilles) cut through Patroclus like a third, invisible arrow. It was a storm, the roar of the sea, dark as the depths of the ocean— Thetis?

He must be dead. The thought of it crushed him. Had he not been strong enough to see Achilles' eyes one more time?

"You are not dead."

No? Certainly this was death. The darkness was like a weight in the bottom of the ocean and he had no strength to fight it. If this was not death then what type of hell was it?

The voice cut him again. "You are fading. Do not expect to live."

No, he had not thought he could. Not recover, anyway. Each moment in the darkness felt like an eternity and Patroclus knew if there was a chance he'd live then he would not be stuck like this. After he collapsed at the battlefield he sunk into the darkness and awoke to the white tent and Odysseus' face. The next time, unconsciousness pulled him further and he had a hard time opening his eyes at all (but oh, was he glad he did when Achilles' eyes stared back at him). This time, he did not have the energy to pull himself up again.

"You waver between consciousness and unconsciousness. There is a choice, however. While death is unavoidable, you can choose to pass on as you are now, or suffer for a little longer. Either way you will not last another day."

Oh. _Oh._

This must not be Thetis, then. She would not give him the chance to wake up at all.

"You need to decide." He already had.

Was there ever another path than seeing Achilles' face?

...

Achilles may not tire like a human but the emotional turmoil had taken its toll. His back ached (though he did not move an inch from Patroclus' side). His eyelids protested with every second that passed (but damned if he closed them). His head- well, that was another story altogether. There were more thoughts moving through his mind than there were stars in the sky, although Patroclus' face was always the sun that they circled.

Patroclus' face only made his guilt worsen.

_It should be me on this cot._

Though Achilles still had not found the energy or emotion to be angry at what had happened to Patroclus, he thought about the battle in detail. Imagining what had happened, imagining how two arrows had found their way to his lover's chest-

He forced himself to stop. His fingernails were digging into his hands so hard they bled. _Not that Patroclus' blood was already on his hands._

Ajax had entered the tent a couple hours before and told Achilles details of the battle. _He was tending to the injured._ Achilles knew of this. _Odysseus had reached him first._ He knew this as well. _The arrows that were taken out of Patroclus matched those of other dead soldiers,_ Ajax was saying. Not surprising. _Men killed by Paris._

It took a moment for this to click in Achilles' mind.

Paris. _Paris._ Ajax's words were repeating in his mind, he could not move. Achilles couldn't breathe. Somehow knowing Hector's brother had been the one to do this made it that much worse. It made the war more personal, it made this bloodier, it made Achilles... _angry._

_Anger was a new presence in the tent. It took its place next to Death, the two of them watching their victims. Waiting._

...

Patroclus began the fight against unconsciousness. Whoever talked to him turned his sorrow into fear, and then to desperation. He needed to see Achilles one more time, he _needed_ to wake up.

Time passed slowly, but each moment in the darkness felt shorter than before. He was aware of the pain in his chest again, the way his lungs hurt with each breath. A little later Patroclus knew he felt a hand in his- _Achilles_ \- and knew he had almost conquered the dark, for now.

Finally, his eyes cracked open. The fact that he had thought it hurt before was laughable. The minute he opened his eyes, his awareness of pain multiplied by a thousand, _he was so aware of everything-_

He saw Achilles. It was as simple as that. Nothing else mattered. (The pain in his body did not disappear but Patroclus realizes there are more important things to think about in his final moments than the pain, and the most important one is asleep right next to him)

If it weren't for the blood, Patroclus could almost pretend this was a normal night. The light of the fire outside filtering into the tent outlines Achilles in gold (perfect, so perfect). His lover is leaned over the side of the cot, dark circles under his closed eyes. The decision to accept death was the easy one, now whether to wake Achilles from his (much needed) sleep or not is the hard part. Though maybe he was in Achilles' dreams too, because only a few seconds go by and he stirs. Patroclus tries to speak his name but it feels as though the air has left his lungs completely.

Achilles is starting to wake up now, which is good, because Patroclus didn't have the strength to do it (literally and figuratively). _He is so perfect,_ Patroclus thinks. His lips form his lover's name and he feels a twist in his heart- only then does he realize how _little_ time there is. The voice, the darkness, everything about it is a blur now, but he thought it would be longer than this. Patroclus expected another day, at least another few hours. _A few more minutes._ He can _feel_ himself fading again and he knows he won't come back. _Do I not have any more moments left?_ (In his heart he knows whatever mercy gods and goddesses grant is bittersweet but he never thought it would feel like _this_ )

Just as the day before everything is in slow motion as the sun rises. Patroclus tries to move, tries to signal to Achilles to _wake up please wake up_ because his time is almost up, he can't hold on anymore (even the pain is fading, _everything about his existence is fading_ ) and what few moments the voice in the dark gave him are almost gone and—

Achilles' eyes are open now. He is looking at Patroclus, whose heart is racing _(like when he and Achilles run and he knows he has no chance of winning)_ and a smile forms on his face _(like it does every time Achilles smiles back at him)_ and his eyes are wet- _but not from sadness_. No, from the joy in his heart. From looking at the sun too long. From everything good in his life.

Patroclus has what he wanted. The eternity in the darkness, the pain, the blood, the shock, the heartbreak— it was all worth it. He is looking into Achilles' eyes. _I was strong enough for this,_ he thinks before closing his eyes for the last time.

...

_A pyre is built. The crackling of the fire is heard by everyone, for everything else around them is silent. The waves do not crash and no one speaks. No one dares break the silence. They are still haunted by the agony of the man who now kneels in the sand. His sobs still echo in their ears._

_Even when everyone has gone, and the last ember of Patroclus is fading, Achilles does not move._

...

_He is honored. A tomb is built and Patroclus is given peace. His spirit is not there to see what happens after his body is burned and his ashes buried._

_Patroclus does not see the end of the war. He does not witness Achilles’ rage, for there is none. There is no fire left in him. (Patroclus was his fire, after all)_

_He does not see the battle that ensues or the army that thinks of Patroclus. He does not see Achilles fighting his way across the battlefield without any emotion, his eyes dead._

_Most importantly, Patroclus does not see Achilles fight Hector. When he suddenly drops his sword and falls to his knees before the stunned prince of Troy. When he chokes out a plea for death. (When it is granted)_

_No, Patroclus does not witness these things. But some time later, he knows Achilles is there with him, at the end of the world. And somewhere along a beach there is a stone with two names._

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary taken from the song "Day Is Gone" by Noah Gundersen & The Forest Rangers


End file.
